


manibus. for your hands.

by star_whale



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Dreams, Headcanon, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Smut, pynch - Freeform, someone take this keyboard away from me, very brief mentions of gansey and kavinsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_whale/pseuds/star_whale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's gotten better at keeping dreams inside his head since Kavinsky, but every once in a while something sneaks out. This time it's a small bottle of lotion that smells like Cabeswater, like moss and misty forest air. The label, he notices, is in his handwriting. </p>
<p>Manibus. For your hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	manibus. for your hands.

He's spent so many nights here that he can't quite figure out if he's dreaming or not. The church apartment's low ceilings and creaky floors play tricks on his mind, all making the scene seem so familiar,  _so real_. Even the lingering smell that the apartment always seems to have is there, dust and mildew tickling his nose. Not even Adam can break the façade.

Adam Parrish,  _the hands and eyes of Cabeswater_. The boy whom over a short period of time has gone from being simply tolerated as Gansey's new friend, to Ronan's own friend, and now maybe even more. He's standing shirtless in the middle of the room, shoulders slightly slouched so that his head doesn't bump against the roof. Apart from his posture and the troubled look etched on his face, Ronan thinks that he looks ethereal. This isn't a new realization. He's admired him for months now. Dusty hair, permanently tired eyes, and freckles dotted like constellations have become Ronan's personal definition of beauty.

What is new though, is the fact that Adam has started returning these feelings.

Ronan had hardly even noticed at first because not much had changed between them. They still fought like dogs over everything, from Ronan's loud taste in music to Adam's near compulsive studying techniques. He still camped out on Adam's floors once or twice a week. And they both still, albeit begrudgingly, followed Gansey on his chases for Glendower. But Ronan had started noticing how Adam's eyes followed him when he thought that no one was looking. He recognizes the confusion and the want in them, but he's never been quite sure how much he believes it until now.

"I- I like you," Adam says, stuttering a bit.

Ronan barks out a harsh laugh, "Glad you do. Friends are supposed to like each other, Parrish." He wants to kick himself; hates how his first response is always to antagonize. He wishes he could pin his cruelty on his life, on the cards he's been dealt. But it doesn't feel right to do that when he's standing in front of Adam, who has faced violence, hatred and loneliness for all of his eighteen years, and yet still has the ability to be soft.

"That's not what I meant, Ronan." Adam says, clearly not pleased with his answer either. He runs his hands over his face and lets out a deep sigh, as if to say,  _there's no going back now_. Then he steps closer to Ronan, so close that their noses almost touch, "I  _want_  you."

At this proximity, his voice is low and his breath feels warm. He smells vaguely of the mint leaves that they had snagged off of Gansey's plant earlier that day. As they lean even closer, Ronan swears that he can almost hear how loudly Adam's heart is beating, and he wouldn't be entirely surprised if his own pulse is audible as well.

Their lips only touch for a hesitant second, before Ronan pulls back slightly to rest their foreheads together.

"Really?" He asks in disbelief.

Adam just smiles and wets his lips, leaning back into the kiss. Even though Ronan's not directly in the chapel of St. Agnes, he still feels as if he is committing a terrible sin. It makes his blood run hot and feels dangerous.  _He likes it_.

He deepens the kiss with a renewed fervour. Their tongues mingle as they press closer to each other still. He can feel Adam pushing under the edge of his muscle shirt, and he groans lightly at the sensation of the cold hands against his torso. But Ronan resists breaking away from Adam's lips until he absolutely has to. He wants this moment to last as long as humanly possible, even if it is just a dream.

Only when they pause for breath, does he tug his shirt over his head. Adam's eyes are dark as they wander over Ronan's body, admiring the harsh black lines that curl across his back and onto his neck. He knows what most people think when they see them, they're dark, sharp and angry and therefore Ronan must be as well. But Adam is looking at him with wonder not disdain. There's a small smile on Adam's face, his cheeks and chest flushed as he catches his breath.

He reaches his hand out and links his fingers with Ronan's to guide them towards the bed. They land on the tiny mattress in a tangle of limbs. As Ronan looks down at Adam, he savours the feeling of warmth that their bodies give off. Though it sends shivers down his spine when Adam traces his tattoos lightly. In return he presses open-mouthed kisses under Adam's jaw and at the hollow of his throat. Adam moans quietly and Ronan can feel him growing hard against his thigh as he continues to suck just hard enough to leave small bruises.

After a few minutes of this, his hips buck up into Ronan's inadvertently and they both gasp. While it causes heat to pool low in Ronan's stomach and fuels him, Adam seems slightly embarrassed. Upon closer inspection though, Ronan can see that he's blushing brightly from behind his hands and biting his lip in a failed attempt to stay quiet.

A strange mixture of arousal and fondness sparks in him at the mere sight of Adam all hot and bothered like this  _because of him_. It then becomes Ronan's mission to make Adam relax; for him to stop being so serious all the time and just come completely undone.

Ronan lowers the hands away from Adam's face and looks him directly in the eye as he grinds their hips together once more. Both moan loudly as Adam's hands scrabble for purchase on his back, harsh enough to leave scratches. He likes the idea of their actions being marked onto each others bodies, even if only for a short while. It reminds him a bit of his tattoos; how the things they symbolize will outlast their existence.

They continue to rock against each other in a desperate search for friction. Adam is louder than he remembers, a constant litany of moans and heaving breaths escaping his mouth. This difference from his past dreams give Ronan hope that this may actually be happening.

"Ronan," He groans as a hand reaches down to cup him through his jeans. That slow Henrietta drawl of his is starting to seep into his voice more and more. It's a sign that he's starting to loose his control, and Ronan thinks that it's sexy as hell.

His hands linger around the button of the jeans until Adam nods, and they both sit up a bit so that he can pull them and his boxers off. As he reveals more and more bare skin, Ronan notices that his thighs are as tanned as the rest of him, and are lightly flecked with the same dusty hair on his head. Teasingly, he kisses the inside of them. His lips brush dangerously close to Adam's erection before he is pulled back up to Adam's mouth.

"Your turn," Adam whispers, his nose pressed against Ronan's cheek after they break away from a breathless kiss.

His hands are rubbing the front of Ronan's sweatpants now in a way that makes Ronan squirm. When the hands suddenly move to his hips so that Adam can flip them over, he makes an embarrassing noise of indignation. Adam doesn't even try to hide how amused he is.

They begin to grind again once Ronan's completely undressed. The feeling of skin on skin is intoxicating enough to make them start missing each others lips when they kiss. And it doesn't take long for Adam to come with a loud moan that Ronan thinks, or maybe just hopes, sounds vaguely like his name. He takes a moment to catch his breath, before nipping at Ronan's jaw and snaking his hand down between them.

Even with the come for lubrication, his hand is dry as he grips Ronan. Somewhere in the back of Ronan's head, he has a memory of Adam worrying his hands together, trying to give the weather-chafed skin relief. It doesn't reduce the pleasure he feels in the slightest though. He finds himself writhing and practically begging for release as Adam continues to jerk him off with long, languid strokes.

Then his eyes open.

Upon waking, he notices three things. The first is disappointment weighing on his heart that always comes with dreams like this. The second is the very obvious and uncomfortable wet stain in his boxers. And the third is the small object in his hands that he must have brought back. Ronan smirks at it. He's gotten better at keeping dreams inside his head since Kavinsky, but every once in a while something sneaks out. This time it's a small bottle of lotion that smells like Cabeswater, like moss and misty forest air. The label, he notices, is in his handwriting.

_Manibus. For your hands._  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! 
> 
> I've never written smut before so this was a little daunting. Hopefully it's not too bad!!


End file.
